Author: Grumpy
Now the real speech below:
Be seated.
Men, all this stuff you hear about America not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of the war, is a lot of horse dung. Americans love to fight.
All real Americans love the sting and clash of battle. When you were kids, you all admired the champion marble shooter, the fastest runner, the big-league ball players and the toughest boxers. Americans love a winner and will not tolerate a loser. Americans play to win all the time. I wouldn’t give a hoot in hell for a man who lost, and laughed.
That’s why Americans have never lost and will never lose a war. The very thought of losing is hateful to America. Battle is the most significant competition in which a man can indulge. It brings out all that is best and it removes all that is base.
You are not all going to die. Only two percent of you right here today would be killed in a major battle. Every man is scared in his first action. If he says he’s not, he’s a goddamn liar. But the real hero is the man who fights even though he’s scared. Some men will get over their fright in a minute under fire, some take an hour, and for some it takes days. But the real man never lets his fear of death overpower his honor, his sense of duty to his country, and his innate manhood.
All through your army career you men have bitched about what you call ‘this chicken-shit drilling.’ That is all for a purpose—to ensure instant obedience to orders and to create constant alertness. This must be bred into every soldier. I don’t give a fuck for a man who is not always on his toes. But the drilling has made veterans of all you men. You are ready! A man has to be alert all the time if he expects to keep on breathing. If not, some German son-of-a-bitch will sneak up behind him and beat him to death with a sock full of shit.
There are four hundred neatly marked graves in Sicily, all because one man went to sleep on the job—but they are German graves, because we caught the bastard asleep before his officer did.
An army is a team. It lives, eats, sleeps, and fights as a team. This individual hero stuff is bullshit. The bilious bastards who write that stuff for the Saturday Evening Post don’t know any more about real battle than they do about fucking. Now we have the finest food and equipment, the best spirit and the best men in the world. You know, by God, I actually pity these poor bastards we’re going up against, by God I do.
All the real heroes are not storybook combat fighters. Every single man in the army plays a vital role. So don’t ever let up. Don’t ever think that your job is unimportant. What if every truck driver decided that he didn’t like the whine of the shells and turned yellow and jumped headlong into a ditch? That cowardly bastard could say to himself, ‘Hell, they won’t miss me, just one man in thousands.’ What if every man said that? Where in the hell would we be then? No, thank God, Americans don’t say that. Every man does his job. Every man is important.
The ordnance men are needed to supply the guns, the quartermaster is needed to bring up the food and clothes for us because where we are going there isn’t a hell of a lot to steal. Every last damn man in the mess hall, even the one who boils the water to keep us from getting the GI shits, has a job to do.
Each man must think not only of himself, but think of his buddy fighting alongside him. We don’t want yellow cowards in the army. They should be killed off like flies. If not, they will go back home after the war, goddamn cowards, and breed more cowards. The brave men will breed more brave men. Kill off the goddamn cowards and we’ll have a nation of brave men.
One of the bravest men I saw in the African campaign was on a telegraph pole in the midst of furious fire while we were moving toward Tunis. I stopped and asked him what the hell he was doing up there. He answered, ‘Fixing the wire, sir.’ ‘Isn’t it a little unhealthy up there right now?’ I asked. ‘Yes sir, but this goddamn wire has got to be fixed.’ I asked, ‘Don’t those planes strafing the road bother you?’ And he answered, ‘No sir, but you sure as hell do.’
Now, there was a real soldier. A real man. A man who devoted all he had to his duty, no matter how great the odds, no matter how seemingly insignificant his duty appeared at the time.
And you should have seen the trucks on the road to Gabès. Those drivers were magnificent. All day and all night they crawled along those son-of-a-bitch roads, never stopping, never deviating from their course with shells bursting all around them. Many of the men drove over 40 consecutive hours. We got through on good old American guts. These were not combat men. But they were soldiers with a job to do. They were part of a team. Without them the fight would have been lost.
Sure, we all want to go home. We want to get this war over with. But you can’t win a war lying down. The quickest way to get it over with is to get the bastards who started it. We want to get the hell over there and clean the goddamn thing up, and then get at those purple-pissing Japs.[a]
The quicker they are whipped, the quicker we go home. The shortest way home is through Berlin and Tokyo. So keep moving. And when we get to Berlin, I am personally going to shoot that paper-hanging son-of-a-bitch Hitler.
When a man is lying in a shell hole, if he just stays there all day, a Boche will get him eventually. The hell with that. My men don’t dig foxholes. Foxholes only slow up an offensive. Keep moving. We’ll win this war, but we’ll win it only by fighting and showing the Germans that we’ve got more guts than they have or ever will have. We’re not just going to shoot the bastards, we’re going to rip out their living goddamned guts and use them to grease the treads of our tanks. We’re going to murder those lousy Hun cocksuckers by the bushel-fucking-basket.
Some of you men are wondering whether or not you’ll chicken out under fire. Don’t worry about it. I can assure you that you’ll all do your duty. War is a bloody business, a killing business.
The Nazis are the enemy. Wade into them, spill their blood or they will spill yours. Shoot them in the guts. Rip open their belly. When shells are hitting all around you and you wipe the dirt from your face and you realize that it’s not dirt, it’s the blood and guts of what was once your best friend, you’ll know what to do.
I don’t want any messages saying ‘I’m holding my position.’ We’re not holding a goddamned thing. We’re advancing constantly and we’re not interested in holding anything except the enemy’s balls. We’re going to hold him by his balls and we’re going to kick him in the ass; twist his balls and kick the living shit out of him all the time. Our plan of operation is to advance and keep on advancing. We’re going to go through the enemy like shit through a tinhorn.
There will be some complaints that we’re pushing our people too hard. I don’t give a damn about such complaints. I believe that an ounce of sweat will save a gallon of blood. The harder we push, the more Germans we kill. The more Germans we kill, the fewer of our men will be killed. Pushing harder means fewer casualties.
I want you all to remember that. My men don’t surrender. I don’t want to hear of any soldier under my command being captured unless he is hit. Even if you are hit, you can still fight. That’s not just bullshit either. I want men like the lieutenant in Libya who, with a Luger against his chest, swept aside the gun with his hand, jerked his helmet off with the other and busted the hell out of the Boche with the helmet. Then he picked up the gun and he killed another German. All this time the man had a bullet through his lung. That’s a man for you!
Don’t forget, you don’t know I’m here at all. No word of that fact is to be mentioned in any letters. The world is not supposed to know what the hell they did with me. I’m not supposed to be commanding this army. I’m not even supposed to be in England. Let the first bastards to find out be the goddamned Germans. Some day, I want them to rise up on their piss-soaked hind legs and howl ‘Ach! It’s the goddamned Third Army and that son-of-a-bitch Patton again!’
Then there’s one thing you men will be able to say when this war is over and you get back home. Thirty years from now when you’re sitting by your fireside with your grandson on your knee and he asks, ‘What did you do in the great World War Two?’ You won’t have to cough and say, ‘Well, your granddaddy shoveled shit in Louisiana.’ No sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say ‘Son, your granddaddy rode with the great Third Army and a son-of-a-goddamned-bitch named George Patton!’
All right, you sons of bitches. You know how I feel. I’ll be proud to lead you wonderful guys in battle anytime, anywhere. That’s all
Israel’s “Grim Beeper” gambit seeded Hezbollah with booby-trapped pagers and radios, then lit them all at once. What led up to it, how it worked, and what it cost.
Table of contents
- Israel’s Independence: How a Tiny State Survived and Hit Back
- Jewish Contributions: Why a Small Population Punches Heavy
- Israel Defense Force From Six-Day Gamble to Strategic Reach
- Hate Inc: How Hezbollah’s Rage Fueled a Fatal Blind Spot
- Gaza Tragedy Context and Consequence
- Operation Grim Beeper The Masterstroke Exploding Pagers
- Nasrallah’s September 19 Statement and What Followed
- Inside the Details How the Pager Supply Chain Was Flipped
- The Hit One Message Then Detonation
- It Gets Worse The Radios Blew Next
- The Butcher’s Bill What the Pagers and Radios Cost
- Key Operation Facts Quick Reference
- Related Reads from GunsAmerica Digest
Israel’s Independence: How a Tiny State Survived and Hit Back
I don’t know where you stand on the whole “God’s Chosen People” thing. I have spent some time in Israel myself, and it is a predominantly secular country today. However, it’s tough to make a dispassionate assessment of Israeli history since 1948 and not think that there is something supernatural going on there.
Israel declared its independence on 14 May 1948. The following day, the surrounding Arab nations launched a coordinated attack to push the nascent nation into the sea. Despite suffocating arms embargoes and being lyrically outnumbered, the fledgling country inexplicably prevailed. The Israelis have been fighting pretty much ever since.
Antisemitism likewise baffles me. I was incredibly impressed with the Jewish work ethic and sense of community.
Every piece of that country is put to some kind of good use. It is all neat and well-maintained. By contrast, the Palestinian Territories looked like Mogadishu. If they just formed a line and swept through their communities to pick up the trash, they could double their property values. It was weird.
Jewish Contributions: Why a Small Population Punches Heavy
I’m not Jewish, but the Jews have made an objectively outsized contribution to the modern world. The ballpoint pen, the polio vaccine, the Polaroid camera, cell phones, the word processor, video games, the pressure cooker, Google, and those ridiculous yakkity-yak wind-up chattering novelty teeth are all Jewish inventions.
Jews represent 0.2% of the world’s population, yet 216 of history’s 965 Nobel Laureates have been either Jewish or had one Jewish parent. That’s 22%. The Jews have produced 110 times as many Nobel Prize winners as the general population.
Israel Defense Force From Six-Day Gamble to Strategic Reach
In 1967, Israel was surrounded by Arab nations planning yet another coordinated attack. They were severely outnumbered in tanks, guns, infantry, and combat aircraft.
On 5 June, the IDF (Israel Defense Force) launched a preemptive attack against long odds. Six days later, those hopelessly outnumbered Israelis were threatening Amman, Cairo, and Damascus. In less than a week, the Israelis had seized 27,000 square miles of territory, effectively tripling their land area.
Frantic intervention in the UN halted the Israeli armored advances. The Six-Day War gained Israel Gaza, the Sinai, the Golan Heights, and the West Bank, including Jerusalem. My point is simply that, were I a betting man, I would not bet against the Israelis on the battlefield.
Hate Inc: How Hezbollah’s Rage Fueled a Fatal Blind Spot
Local Arabs call the Six-Day War “The Setback.” They seethe with hatred for the Jews and the Jewish state. Both sides have ample blood on their hands, and the issue of expanding settlements is a perennial thorn. However, this hatred feeds terrorist organizations from all points of the compass, all of which are bankrolled by Iran.
Hamas is an acronym for Harakat al-Muqawama al-Islamiyya. This translates to “Islamic Resistance Movement.” Hamas thrived in Gaza until 7 October 2023.
On that one bloody day, Hamas terrorists infiltrated neighboring Israeli communities and slaughtered some 1,200 Israelis. Scaled up to our population, that is the equivalent of Mexican narco-terrorists coming across our southern border and killing some 42,000 Americans…in a single day.
As one might imagine, the Israelis did not respond well to that. Neither would we. Since then, the IDF has systematically deconstructed both Hamas and Gaza. The Gaza Strip is now 140 square miles of rubble and misery. Hamas is castrated and leaderless.
Gaza Tragedy Context and Consequence
The situation in Gaza is undeniably tragic. However, nobody forced those guys to murder those 1,200 Israelis. Were Hamas to hand over the rest of the surviving hostages and stop killing innocent Israelis, the war would be over tomorrow.
On the northern front, you have Hezbollah. Hezbollah means “Party of God” in Arabic. Founded in 1982 and based in southern Lebanon, Hezbollah is an armed terrorist network the size of a modest army.
At least, they were the size of a modest army before they began lobbing rockets into northern Israel. That got the IDF activated. Now, most of their leadership positions remain vacant, and the organization is a shell of its former self. A big part of that is because of Operation Grim Beeper.
Operation Grim Beeper The Masterstroke Exploding Pagers
They actually call it that. The Israeli attack wherein they infiltrated more than a thousand booby-trapped exploding pagers into Lebanon is indeed known as Operation Grim Beeper. So long as you do not harbor any undue affection for Hezbollah terrorists, it could almost be funny.
“There is no doubt that we have been subjected to a major security and humanitarian blow that is unprecedented in the history of the resistance in Lebanon, at least, and unprecedented in the history of Lebanon.”
Nasrallah’s September 19 Statement and What Followed
Eight days after Hassan Nasrallah, then Secretary-General of Hezbollah, spoke those words he was dead, buried underneath untold tons of rubble after a focused Israeli airstrike in Beirut. The “humanitarian blow” to which the master terrorist referred was one of the most audacious and effective covert operations in military history.
Inside the Details How the Pager Supply Chain Was Flipped
I’m pretty boring myself. I don’t fear government surveillance, because I seldom have anything interesting to say. However, if any of you gentle readers might be moonlighting as terrorists or drug lords, you might want to ditch your cell phones.
Give him a reason to do so, and Uncle Sam can steal every word you share on that thing. The Israelis were doing the same thing in southern Lebanon. As a result, the Hezbollah leadership figured they would go old school. They put out feelers for a group buy on a bunch of pagers.
Outside of hospitals, not very many people use pagers anymore. When I was a medical resident, I despised these things. The appeal from a military perspective is that they do not transmit; they only receive. As a result, they cannot be tracked. That means pagers can be used to disseminate information without producing any usable targeting data. However, the Israelis saw this as an opportunity.
Somewhere around February 2024, Hezbollah leadership began distributing thousands of Gold Apollo AR-924 pagers to its subordinate commands.
They chose this particular model predominantly because of its legendary battery life. They only needed to be charged once a month or so. Hezbollah also got a great deal on them. Even terrorists need to be responsible stewards of their finances.
The Pager Plot Front Companies, Reprogramming, and PETN
The pagers came as a bulk purchase from a company based in Budapest called BAC Consulting Kft. Three years before, BAC had entered into a licensing agreement with the Taiwanese Gold Apollo Company to produce these pagers.
The funds passed through a variety of shell companies that made the digital fingerprint impossible to decipher. When investigators later went to the address of record for BAC in Hungary, they found an empty office sporting a sheet of paper taped to the door with the company name handwritten on it. It seems that BAC, along with all the rest, was actually a front for the Israeli Mossad.
The Mossad purchased 5,000 pagers well in advance, disassembled them, and replaced part of the internal battery with a PETN explosive charge. They also reprogrammed the devices. The Mossad then carefully repackaged the things and sold them to Hezbollah. The truly ironic part is that Hezbollah paid for the operation.
The Hit One Message Then Detonation
On 17 September 2024, at around 1530 local, pagers across Lebanon and Syria vibrated and beeped simultaneously. The pagers read, “You Have an Important Message,” and then displayed an error notice. To clear the error, operators were directed to press two buttons on the device simultaneously. This ensured that both hands were on the thing and that it was held close to the face. That’s when they exploded.
The pagers that were not answered detonated anyway. Thousands of Hezbollah terrorists lost eyes, fingers, and hands. Security footage taken in a market in Beirut showed a Hezbollah terrorist getting his balls blown off. Here’s the link.
12 people died, several of whom were reportedly civilians. There were purportedly two children counted among them. If the reports are to be believed, some 2,750 civilians were injured. However, these are terrorists. They lie a lot.
It Gets Worse The Radios Blew Next
The following day, Hezbollah was reeling from the attack. There were indignant protests and noisy funeral processions for the recently deceased. That’s when their walkie-talkies exploded.
The walkie-talkies were handheld ICOM IC-V82 VHF models. Curiously, I have a very similar device as a backup radio in my little fighter plane. I have no idea where mine originally came from. I can only hope it wasn’t Lebanon.
Just like Gold Apollo, the ICOM company immediately distanced itself from these devices. Manufacture of the IC-V82 ceased in 2014. They had issued a warning previously about knockoff radios being produced under their name.
The Butcher’s Bill What the Pagers and Radios Cost
The Lebanese health ministry reported that 300 people were completely blinded, while a further 500 lost one eye in the attacks. Iran deployed a dozen physicians to Lebanon to help treat the injuries. An anonymous Hezbollah official admitted that the attacks removed 1,500 front-line fighters from the zone of conflict. The total death toll was reported at 42 with nearly 4,000 wounded.
Mojtaba Amini, the Iranian ambassador to Lebanon, lost an eye in the attack. That begs the question as to why he was packing a Hezbollah terrorist pager in the first place. While the Iranians claim to be all peaceful and fun-loving, the entire planet knows better.
Inside the Operation Seeding, Pricing, and Intercepts
The unfiltered audacity of all this was frankly amazing. The Mossad began the operation back in 2015 by producing slick marketing videos aimed at Hezbollah decision makers, touting the many benefits of this particular pager and radio.
Lots of folks, other than Hezbollah, showed interest. However, the Mossad quoted an inflated price for non-Hezbollah customers while offering the devices to the terrorist organization below cost. Hezbollah was thrilled to get them.
The Turkish National Intelligence Organization later intercepted a further 1,300 pagers and 700 chargers at the Istanbul Airport that were laden with explosives and also destined for Lebanon. It seems one should indeed never cross the Israelis.
Key Operation Facts Quick Reference
| Operation Name | Operation Grim Beeper |
|---|---|
| Trigger Date | 17 September 2024 |
| Primary Devices | Gold Apollo AR-924 pagers |
| Secondary Devices | ICOM IC-V82 handheld VHF radios |
| Explosive | PETN charge in modified battery |
| Reported Impact | Thousands injured; multiple blinded; front-line losses admitted by Hezbollah |
M1A SOCOM and M1 Carbine photos courtesy of Springfield-Armory.com and Auto-Ordnance.com, respectively.
It was Elmer Ballance who began manufacturing and offering M1A rifles in the early 1970s based on the venerable M14. The Reese family took ownership of his fledgling Springfield Armory firm, moved it to Geneseo, Ill., and grew the company into national prominence as one of the industry’s most prominent manufacturers. The company’s entire M1A line remains highly desired by enthusiasts to this day.
Then, after a U.S. military report determined 5.56 NATO cartridges were ineffective at average engagement distances in Afghanistan, many original M14s stored in U.S. armories were retrofitted and issued to our troops. Reports were glowing about reliability and the improved performance of the 7.62 NATO cartridge it chambers.
Civilian interest peaked, and soon rugged, a number of combat-worthy aftermarket chassis—along with other accessories—hit the commercial market.
For those not interested in preserving the historic look, replacement of a worn wood stock gave the rifle an appealing high-speed, low-drag look. M1As continue to be hot sellers for Springfield Armory, particularly those coming from the factory with all the right gear, like the SOCOM seen (top photo) above.
M1 Garand
This year, there’s been an unexpected resurgence of interest in all things M1/M14 related, however, it’s not limited to the M1A. The Civilian Marksmanship Program (CMP), as we reported before, is now offering freshly made M1 Garands manufactured so tightly to its World War II specs that it’s been cleared for use in the CMP’s vintage service rifle matches.
CMP has been offering surplus Garands for years, but factory-fresh versions are a new venture. The organization’s M1 Garand Match has fueled added interest in the rifle since it began in 1998. There’s no doubt these new models will attract more shooters to that firing line and others.
M1 Carbine
The M1 carbine also saw duty during World War II. Its sleek profile makes it an attractive addition to any collection, but prices on used versions are getting more expensive by the day. The .30 Carbine cartridge it chambers is also sometimes a challenge to find at most retailers.
Auto Ordnance (bottom rifle in the photo above) and Inland Manufacturing have been offering them on the civilian market for years. They are popular choices and available in a couple different versions.
Chiappa Firearms recently introduced something slightly different, however. It’s a limited series of WW2 Commemorative Edition M1 Carbines chambered in .22 LR or 9 mm Luger. The company rolled them out for the 80th anniversary of the end of that war, and each rifle comes in a commemorative stamped box, a commemorative embedded eagle coin in the stock and certificate of authenticity matching the limited production.
This limited release is numbered, with only 1,945 rifles manufactured, marking the year the war ended. They may be more of a collectible than shooter, but their chamberings will likely see many of them put to use regularly.
Full-Auto BB Gun
As if that isn’t enough, Crosman recently introduced a M1 Full-Auto BB gun. Cosmetically it’s not exactly a perfect match with the original, but it’s close enough for government work and lots of inexpensive fun.
It also underscores an interesting trend. The M1 Garand, M14 and M1 Carbine are the kind of timeless designs that will never go out of style, but this year’s resurgence is something different altogether.
We’ll keep you up to date is any other manufacturers follow suit. In the meantime, we’re keeping our fingers crossed for the appearance of new FN FALs, or a half dozen.
“There were also a number of diverse people who ran curiously to type, with drilled shoulders and a bone-deep sunburn, and a tolerant scorn of nearly everything on earth. Their speech was flavored with navy words, and … in easy hours their talk ran from the Tartar Wall beyond Pekin to the Southern Islands, down under Manila. … Rifles were high and holy things to them, and they knew five-inch broadside guns.
They talked patronizingly of the war, and were concerned about rations. They were the Leathernecks, the Old Timers … the old breed of American regular, regarding the service as home and war as an occupation; and they transmitted their temper and character and view-point to the high-hearted volunteer mass which filled the ranks of the Marine Brigade.”
The Browning Automatic Rifle served as a Squad Automatic Weapon back when Squad Automatic Weapons weren’t cool.
Think back to the last time you were alone and frightened. We live in such a remarkably insulated society that many modern Americans have never felt the uniquely synergistic fear that comes from both isolation and peril. For me it occurred back in the 1970’s while I was rabbit hunting with my dad and a bunch of friends.
Table of contents
I was maybe ten and was packing a Remington autoloading 20-gauge. Given my young age I was posted in the middle of the skirmish line as the beagles tore up the countryside looking for bunnies. It was wintertime in the Mississippi Delta and cold by our standards. As we swept through the woods we came across a thick stand of cane.
Thinking back, I should have had sense enough to go around. However, I just opted to press through the thicket instead. By the time I finally worked my way to the other side, the entire group was gone. The Army had not yet taught me the fine art of terrain association, so I just picked a likely direction and moved out smartly. That was a mistake.
Lost and Cold
In short order, it was snowing, and I had no idea where I was. Disoriented and freezing in the middle of no place, I began to feel the icy grip of terror closing in. My unfettered imagination ran away with me, and every sordid wilderness survival story I had ever heard came flooding back into my mind.
Eventually, I happened upon an empty cabin. I briefly considered trying to shoot the power line down in the ridiculous hope that the power company might somehow notice. Then I thought of maybe blowing the door open to see if I could find any food.
Along the way, I did a fair amount of passionate praying. Then I heard a shotgun in the distance. I pointed my Remington skyward and answered with a blast of my own. Half an hour later I was surrounded by the hunting party, and all was well. For that brief period, however, I was legit terrified.
With the benefit of hindsight I’d give myself a solid C. I didn’t panic, scream, or cry. Instead, I analyzed the situation and considered my options. I planned to use the available resources to give myself the best possible chance at survival. I suppose I did OK, though there was never any serious peril. They’d have found me eventually regardless. However, some three decades before, an Army PFC named Alton W. Knappenberger did so much better.
The Guy: “Knappie” Knappenberger
Alton Knappenberger was a truly great American.Alton W. “Knappie” Knappenberger was born in Cooperstown, PA, on the last day of 1923. He entered the US Army in March of 1943 in Spring Mount, Pennsylvania. Less than a year later, Knappenberger was a Private First Class assigned to the 30th Infantry Regiment, 3d Infantry Division slogging his way across the Italian peninsula.
From our perspective in the Information Age, we know that the Allies were ultimately victorious and the Germans got spanked. However, at this time and in this place the end result was far from certain. During the Battle of Cisterna, we got our butts kicked.
The Battle of Cisterna was a subset of the overarching invasion of Anzio. Titled Operation Shingle, the amphibious assault on Anzio was a critical part of the learning process that eventually successfully took us to Normandy. Cisterna was also where we figured out how not to employ US Army Rangers. The hard lessons we learned held us in good stead across Europe and into the German heartland.
One Out of Many
Here we see Knappie Knappenberger cleaning his Browning Automatic Rifle.Alton Knappenberger was just some guy, one of literally millions of American GIs who answered their nation’s call to go overseas and face down the forces of tyranny and oppression. However, PFC Knappenberger’s story is inexplicably tied to a unique weapon. Alton Knappenberger was a BAR man.
Grunts of the day spoke that term just as it sounds—“Barman.” By contrast, the weapon was referred to by its individual initials—“B…A…R.” Regardless of how you pronounced it, the Browning Automatic Rifle was a wonderful horrible gun.
The Weapon
The Browning Automatic Rifle was a First World War contrivance that was obsolete by the onset of WW2. However, the big gun soldiered on into Vietnam and was generally adored by the grunts who wielded it. John Browning designed the enormous weapon specifically to facilitate walking fire.
I was trained in the geriatric concept of walking fire when I first donned the uniform. The idea was that you would advance with your mates in line and fire a round from the hip every time a certain foot hit the ground. That’s great in theory, but it doesn’t work so well when facing dug-in, belt-fed MG08 Maxim guns. As a result, American grunts mostly just used the BAR like a man-portable machine gun.
Variety is the Spice of Life
The BAR came in three major variants. M1918 was the WW1 version, and it was just a big honking machine rifle without a bipod. The R75 Colt Monitor was essentially the same gun with a pistol grip, shortened barrel, and Cutts compensator made in very small numbers for the FBI as well as civilian consumption.
CPT Frank Hamer’s posse used an R75 Colt Monitor to gun down Bonnie and Clyde on 23 May 1934. Here’s that story if you’re interested. The M1918A2 was the most common military version.
Outfitted with a clunky bipod and complex buttstock, the M1918A2 weighed a whopping 19 pounds and fed from a 20-round detachable box magazine. Many GIs, particularly those serving in the South Pacific, stripped their BARs down by removing the bipods, carrying handles, and flash hiders to make them as light and maneuverable as possible.
Trigger Time
Despite firing a .30-06/7.62x63mm cartridge the size of my index finger, the M1918A2 remains quite controllable from the prone, hip, and offhand firing positions. The gun offers a user-selectable rate of fire between 400 and 600 rounds per minute. However, at 43.7 inches long, this thing is an absolute beast to carry.
While humping the BAR was not for the faint of heart, the gun invariably became the tactical center of gravity in any close to mid-range infantry engagement. The reassuring chug of the BAR endeared confidence in ways that semiautomatic rifle fire just couldn’t. It also reliably tore stuff up downrange.
Tactical Details
As I mentioned, the Battle of Cisterna was one we lost. On 1 February 1944, a concerted and powerful German counterattack splintered Knappenberger’s infantry battalion. Where many of his mates understandably fell back, Knappenberger pushed forward with his M1 onto a small rise with minimal cover.
Along the way, he retrieved a Browning Automatic Rifle and ammunition from a dead comrade. This vantage gave him an excellent view of the surrounding area and a decent field of fire, but it left him woefully exposed. Suddenly an enemy machinegun team spotted him and opened fire from a distance of about 85 meters.
German belt-fed machine guns were rightfully respected. The MG34 and MG42 were reliable, portable, accurate, and fast. This crew chewed up Knappenberger’s position, snapping big 7.92mm rounds within six inches of his head. In response, Knappenberger rose to his knees, shouldered his spanking new BAR, and blew the German MG crew away, killing two and wounding the third.
It Gets Worse for Knappenberger
Taking advantage of the chaos, a pair of stalwart German Landsers crept to within 20 meters of Knappenberger’s position and threw a couple of potato masher grenades.
However, in its simplest form, the German Stielhandgranate was an offensive grenade with a thin sheet steel casing. While it offered ample blast effect, actual shrapnel was minimal. Knappenberger successfully weathered the explosions, indexed his big auto rifle, and killed both of the German grenadiers with a single generous burst.
The BAR’s 20-round magazine capacity, along with its lack of a quick-change barrel, proved to be the limiting factors in the gun’s employment. Knappenberger swapped magazines as needed as targets bore. By now he was finding his stride.
A second German belt-fed machinegun opened up from a range of roughly 100 meters. In response, Knappenberger laid his gun just as he had been trained and dispatched that crew as well.
The surviving Germans then unlimbered a fast-firing 20mm antiaircraft gun. That’s when things went really sideways.
Next Level Chaos
Those 20mm AA guns could be found in both single and quad mounts. The Flak-38 was the most common and fed its high explosive projectiles from a 20-round box magazine at a cyclic rate of 450 rpm.
Such a weapon figured prominently in the epic climactic scene in Saving Private Ryan. I really cannot imagine facing such a meat chopper in action. However, Alton Knappenberger just drew a careful bead with his liberated BAR, and decrewed that gun as well.
By now the Germans were losing their sense of humor with this solitary grunt from Pennsylvania. They advanced on his position en masse armed with rifles and machine pistols supported by shellfire from both tanks and artillery.
Every time one of these Germans stuck his head up, PFC Knappenberger just shot it off. Eventually, however, the intrepid young American grunt ran out of ammo.
Though the BAR fed from a 20-round box magazine and the M1 Garand used 8-round en bloc clips, the rounds were interchangeable between the two weapons.
PFC Knappenberger crawled some fifteen yards under fire to reach a downed GI and relieve the man’s body of his M1 clips. He then kept up the fight until all available ammunition was consumed. Now defenseless, Knappenberger quietly slipped rearward to rejoin his battalion. He had singlehandedly stopped this concerted German counterattack for more than two hours.
Knappenberger’s Grand Finale
Alton “Knappie” Knappenberger was one of 472 Medal of Honor recipients from WW2.Knappenberger survived the war and came home with Staff Sergeant’s stripes on his arms and the Medal of Honor around his neck. He was one of only six from his original 200-man company not killed or wounded. Once home he eschewed social events organized in his honor, making his living driving an asphalt truck and running construction equipment while living humbly in a trailer.
Alton Knappenberger was a hero laid to rest in a field of heroes at Arlington.Knappie lived out the rest of his days quietly in Pennsylvania, eventually dying in Pottstown at the ripe age of 84. SSG Knappenberger ran that BAR like he owned it and then came home to make the world a better place. He was the absolute best of us.